Monthly Archives: May 2008

This Guy …

Can you believe this guy?

Just kidding; it’s his birthday. Happy birthday, Steve!

I just asked him if he was going to celebrate his “Super Sweet 27” and he said:

“Oh totally. Omarion is performing.”

… which is probably the second funniest thing he’s ever said to me. I can’t get over it. Oh my god.

Have a great one, Steve. You are awesome.

(Photo – my favorite of these guys, hands down – appears courtesty of Jen, who took this the day we all went shopping in Camden Town. I love this pic so much. Fun times.)

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Gay Marriage Saves The Economy (And The World, And My Weekends)

All of this talk about the economy and the recent ruling of legal gay marriage in California (as well as yesterday’s trip to Bed Bath & Beyond) got me thinking… George W. could completely restore our economy by legalizing gay marriage.

Let’s break this down, friends. Let’s drop some science. Gay science.

I’ll start out with some information from a 2000 census bureau*, along with a disclaimer:

Whilst the census cannot give us a figure for the number of people who are gay in America, it can inform us on how many same-sex partnership households identified themselves in the survey. The 2000 census tells us that:

* there are 105.5 million households in the USA;
* 5.5 million of these consist of unmarried partnerships;
* of these, 595,000 consist of same sex partners.

Now, we’ll assume that there are more same-sex households in 2008. Factor out the couples who don’t want to get married, as well as couples who live separately yet want to get married. So, we’ll keep that number exactly the same. (This is also because I know nothing about anthropology. Also I’ve been drinking.)

Now let’s say that all of those couples have been waiting to get married for a while, and once gay marriage is legalized they all start planning a wedding ceremony and reception to take place this year.**

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know that in 2006 I had to attend NINE weddings. So while I am not married and may never know the “pleasure”, I am well versed in wedding registries. I still can’t furnish my kitchen because I’ve had to buy nonsense like cake machines and slushie makers for all of you.

Okay, so let’s say that these 595,000 couples each plan a wedding with an average guest list of 150 people.

And if those guests are anything like me, they’ll grab one of those Bed Bath & Beyond coupons that come in the mail every day (seriously), and run to the nearest location to spend $40. Let’s be honest: $30.

So for each wedding (and keep in mind I am a dirt-poor recent college grad so I am grossly underestimating this), that’s $4,500 into the economy.

Multiply that by 595,000, and that’s $2,677,500,000 into the economy.

Not gas. Not war. Not taxes or morgages or economic stimulus checks. Over 2 and a half billion into the economy out of pure love and equal rights and supporting friends and family by celebrating their marriage.

Now, this doesn’t even factor in the actual cost of a wedding and how many businesses are devoted to this kind of event. I have been to a few gay weddings (I will call them weddings regardless; eff you G.W.) and they were legendary. Corey Worthington couldn’t even throw together a party like your average gay wedding.

I tried to look up the average cost of a wedding in the U.S. and I came across this article and almost spit beer all over the keyboard.

$30,000 for a wedding?!?! Are you people crazy? I could pay off my student loans AND my car AND take a vacation to like, Branson for 30 grand. I know I live in the Midwest where I pay half as much for the exact same things as you kids on the coasts, but JESUS CHRIST. That is RIDICULOUS and UNNECESSARY.

I know everything about wedding registries but nothing about planning a wedding. But even a $10,000 wedding (which still makes me vomit; seriously it’s one day…) for all of those couples would put almost $6,000,000,000 into the economy.

That’s a grand total of $8,627,500,000 into the economy. In a year. That’s almost enough to buy proper bulletproof vests for our soldiers overseas. Think about it, George. Think about it.

*This is the article where I found that info. I shrieked with girlie joy when I saw those rainbow bullet points. Precious!

**This may seem presumptuous but is in no way a stereotype; I’m strictly basing this on all the straight chicks I know.

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Rudd The Studd

I’d like to wish Pancake Master and Shortcake MVP RØB a belated Happy Birthday.

I would ALSO like to wish everyone else a belated Hump Day, if you know what I mean (and you absolutely will after you watch this Paul Rudd clip):

YOU’RE WELCOME.

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I Can’t Read!

Sorry I havn’t written in a while.

They moved my desk at work, so now instead of being in an office with a wall of windows, I am now in what I affectionately refer to as the “Copy Cave.” It’s cozy, dark and private, so I was loving it for a while.

Unfortunately it’s right by a tower of electical outlets, so it caused interference with my computer monitor and made everything wavy (and as my co-worker Jeff pointed out, I’m probably infertile). I didn’t notice it for a while, but gradually I started getting more and more seasick. By the middle of last week I was completely nauseous after 10 seconds of sitting at my desk.

I’ve had the pleasure of using every crappy extra 1997 monitor in the building and a variety of lamps that haven’t passed safety regulations. Needless to say, I still want to barf and I have no idea what to do next. They’ve ordered me a new monitor, but supposedly it’s just like the one I have now, which means I’m screwed. And blind.

So yeah… obviously the last thing I want to do is stare at a computer screen any longer than I have to, let alone attempt to be funny and creative. I just want to throw up in my mouth a little bit and die.

On the plus side, I haven’t been able to eat breakfast or lunch for the past week and a half, so my dinners have been amazing.

Other stuff while I have a brief moment of clarity – my dad is still doing okay, I am addicted to The Paper, my friends are all over the flu and while life sucks in some respects, in other ways it’s the best it’s been in a while. More specifically, I like who I am kissing. I’ve liked him since the day I met him and I think it’s a hoot that he likes me back.

This is how much I’ve liked him: I liked him when I was with Brian. I even liked him when I was with TSGoC. I would have dumped both of them to kiss this boy and now I get to all the time, so neener.

Also before I forget, check out this German cell phone commercial featuring Snoop Dogg and my awesome friend Iain:

I’m not even going to spell-check this entry; that’s how tired and dizzy I am from typing this.

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Rome, Capri and the One Punch Rule

My dad is out of the hospital with his leg intact; thank you for the prayers and support. Here are the rest of those Italy pictures.

Our trip to Italy actually began and ended in Rome. But before I jump into the pictures, I need to tell you about the Jersey Boys’ revolutionary philosophy, the One Punch Rule.

Basically, the One Punch Rule would give men permission to punch a woman in the face. But just one woman, one time. Then you would have to register with the government and cash in your One Punch.

It makes sense, when you think about it. Women can be pretty low sometimes. So if your special lady decides to gamble away your money, cheat on you with your best friend, etc., you could (by law) give her a good one right in the kisser. Jen and I thought this was hysterical and were not offended at all. * Some actions deserve a punch in the face, and speaking from experience, punching a girl in the face when she deserves it feels intoxicating.

The reason I’m telling you this is because as our plane was taking off on the way to Rome, we hit some turbulence and the plane was shaking to a terrifying degree. I did what I normally do: close my eyes, grip the armrests and cry on the inside.

Ray, however, turned to Jen and said, “Jen – I think you’re awesome… you’re like the coolest girl I’ve ever met… but if this plane goes down, I’m using my One Punch on you. I have to do the One Punch before I die. I’m sorry.”

~~~*~~~

Okay so, Rome. One of the first things we did was visit the Vatican.

And guess what we had the audacity to do? You guessed it: climb to the top.

That dome part at the top doesn’t exactly even out in the inside… you have to bend yourself sideways like a V-8 commercial for about 3 flights of stairs, with teeny little holes in the wall for breathing. I literally passed two people having almost-heart attacks.

The Vatican was nice enough to install an elevator at the very top. All around the edge of the roof were statues of various saints. The space in front of the elevator, however, was empty. We convinced Frank to go stand in it, and naturally he was doing this:

… right when an elevator full of hardcore Catholics arrived at the roof. Serious stinkeyes all around.

~~~*~~~

After that, we had the pleasure of participating in the shittiest walking tour that Italy has to offer. This Brazilian guy named Paolo promised to take us around teach us about Rome.

However, Paolo had trouble speaking both English and Italian. He also brought his girlfriend with us and talked to her the whole time. So basically, we all paid eighteen bucks (or 8 billion lire) to tag along on Paolo’s date.

We did see a few cool things, including the Mouth of Truth. Supposedly if you think of a lie and stick your hand in, the mouth will bite you. I bragged to everyone that I thought of a lie, but honestly I was too scared.

Here is some stuff (I was too pissed at Paolo to pay attention):

The breaking point for our tour, however, came when we arrived at the Coliseum. First Jen and I had to deal with various obscene come-ons from the fake Roman guards, who apparently spend their entire day chain-smoking and whistling at chicks.

So Paolo stopped in front of the Coliseum and started telling us about it.

“Aren’t we going to go in?” we asked.

“No no no, I can tell you everything from out here,” Paolo said, fumbling through a tour book. “Okay. Have you ever seen the movie Gladiator?”

I think Ray flat-out walked away at that point. Later we came back by ourselves and went inside.

I hate to be a buzzkill, but it was smaller than I imagined it would be. We ended up sitting at the top for a while to eat PB&Js.

And what did we discuss while sitting in one of the greatest landmarks in the entire world?

Truckasaurus vs. Robosaurus. Obviously.

~~~*~~~

Up next, we went to Capri.

Ask Frank how that went.

~~~*~~~

So after Venice, Florence and Sienna, we came back to Rome for the flight home. We ended up stopping at a few more cool spots, like the Trevi Fountain. This is where tourists come to throw in a coin and make a wish. I have some pictures of us but they turned out pretty butt-ugly. So here is a postcard:

Another site that you will only see a postcard of is the Sistine Chapel. It is pretty tacky and gaudy. Like the statue of David, we were not allowed to take pictures. Unlike the statue of David, they had more than one tour guide enforcing this rule. I got a crick in my neck staring at these dudes:

That was one of those moments where I tried as hard as possible to absorb the memory. I mean, I still can’t believe I was there.

~~~*~~~

One memory I don’t have a picture or postcard of, but will always cherish, is the smoking porch of our hostel. I was the only smoker in our group so I spent a lot of time sitting around with strangers.

One night I sat at the little card table with an English girl, a Scottish girl, a Canadian girl, a Kiwi lady and a gay Frenchmen, and we all traded stories about date-rapey Italian men.

~~~*~~~

I believe our last night was when we went to the Piazza de Spagna. This was another one of those spots where Europeans go to just lay around, play the guitar and drink wine.

We mostly talked to our Kiwi buddies and the guy who played “Wonderwall” on the guitar, but I have to say it’s the best party I’ve ever been to and I can’t believe Romans get to do it every day.

When in Rome, indeed.

~~~*~~~

* My ex-boyfriend told me that after this conversation, Frank told him I was “too cute to punch in the face.” I honestly can’t think of a better compliment. Thanks Frank! 😉

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